


Deception and Desire

by daedindalin



Series: Of Rue, Joy, and Ash [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Bring on the Drinks, Demons, Drama, Drinking, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fights, Friendship, Heavy Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Sera's mouth, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Spirits, Strong O/C presence, The Fade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daedindalin/pseuds/daedindalin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haven is destroyed. Inquisitor Rue Lavellan strives to rebuild the Inquisition at Skyhold when she receives an unexpected visit from her cousin. Her mind is put at ease with Alassiel's arrival, but the peace doesn't last long--While Corypheus' forces threaten the Inquisition outwardly, treachery and murder soon jeopardize from within.  Rue's life, as well as the lives of those she holds dear are in danger,  and they must discover and stop the forces that conspire against them before they are dismantled internally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Great Hunt

She missed. A twig snapped as her arrow was loosed; the hart jolted to attention in alarm at the sudden sound; and she missed. Rue's jaw dropped, her usually self-assured countenance contorted into an expression of horror and disbelief as she watched the arrow whizz through the stag's ear and lodge into the tree behind it. The shocked stag reared onto its hind legs, spun around, and tore off through the dense forest.

The frantic elf leapt up from behind the moss-covered granite boulder that was her hiding spot. She scoured the immediate surroundings for a tree with sturdy branches to climb, and as her alert green eyes grazed over a familiar pair of yellow plaid trousers in the process, she discovered what had caused the sound that startled the deer.

"Damnit, Sera!" Rue cursed, ascending the tree to her immediate left.

"Shit, sorry!" The city elf grimaced while the consequences of her careless step played out before her. In an effort to salvage the hunting operation, she emerged from behind her own cover – a little tree, barely wider than her – with bow drawn. "Don't you run from us, you bastard!" she cried as she took a flustered shot. It missed the panicked stag by about a foot to its right, causing it to change course and sprint to its left, which would lead out of the woods and into the open plains.

She fired again. "Three fuckin’ hours we've spent trackin' your arse! Get  _back_ here!" Sera's mounting frustration at each failed shot made her more inaccurate, which made her angrier.

"Give it a rest, Sera! At this point, you're just throwing away arrows!"

One last defiant arrow flew from her bow before Sera looked up at the person scolding her. Inquisitor Rue Lavellan had climbed as high as she felt the large oak tree would support her (which was, admittedly, several meters up) and was carefully noting the direction in which the stag ran before it fell out of sight over the horizon.

"It's heading north-west of here," Rue finally stated as she descended the tall oak. "If it goes out in the open fields, we'll have an easier time. So will any hungry wolves that spot it, though, so we should hurry." She swung to the ground energetically from a sturdy, low branch and approached her hunting companion, who was angrily exacting revenge on every fallen twig that was nearby.

With every stomp and  _snap_ came a new, increasingly creative swear. "Lemme guess," she grunted, "We get to chase it. For three  _more_ friggin' hours."

The Inquisitor chuckled and wiped her damp brow. It was more humid in the woods than it had been earlier that morning, and she was starting to feel it. "Well, hopefully it won't take  _that_ long. You missed it, sure, but steering the stag out of the forest was good for us. Come on."

An audible groan came from Sera when she bent down to collect her backpack of supplies. "Cripes, I don't even know why I  _came_  for this," she whined as she slung the leather bag over her shoulder. "All this work, and for what? A bit of deer meat?"

"Take it up with Josephine," Rue answered with a grin, scooping up her own supply pack. She scratched her head to remove any twigs or leaves that might have been stuck in her boyishly short, practically platinum hair until Sera trudged up beside her. "This was  _her_ idea. We've got a visiting noble of Ferelden coming in a few days – Bann Parth, I think he's called."

"Ooh, I've heard of that title," said Sera thoughtfully. "Fancy, but not  _too_ fancy. Hope he doesn't act bigger than his breeches."

Rue nodded. "Josephine says he's a big hunter, and serving a venison feast that the Inquisitor hunted herself could make a very good impression. It would ‘demonstrate my competence as a leader’, I think she said, which’ll make the Inquisition look like a capable force worth allying with."

"You'd think you closin' rifts would be evidence enough." A look of disgust spread across Sera's face as the two briskly made their way through the woods. The Inquisitor shrugged in response. "I get it, though. It's stupid, but I get it. Big hats posturin' while the world falls apart. Typical shit."

After a moment's silence, she bumped the Inquisitor's shoulder with her own. "You're all right, though. Even if you  _did_ lie and say this would be fun."

"No, I said it  _could_ be fun." Rue nudged her companion back with a smile. "In fact, if I remember correctly, Blackwall tried to discourage you from coming along on our little hunting trip, because he  _knew_ you'd hate it."

"Yeah right. All he said was 'we're spendin' a lot of time outdoors'." Sera scoffed and twirled her finger in the air sarcastically. "Big deal. I mean, we do that anyway when we go to mop up Coryphy-tit's mess. He didn't say nothin' to me about playin' a three-hour game of hide-an'-friggin'-seek with a damn deer."

"You could have stayed and done the fishing instead of Blackwall."

"I dunno how to fish!"

"You don't know how to  _hunt,_  either," Rue muttered under her breath.

Sera, ignoring the Inquisitor's comment, sighed and shook her head. "All this outdoorsy crap, with the rain, an’ bugs, an'  _humidity…_ I dunno how you dalish folk  _do_ it."

* * *

 

Sera complained on and off about their predicament and her boredom until they reached the edge of the forest. The early afternoon sun shone brightly overhead, illuminating the small green valley before them; the summer air was fresh and cool, and the young hunters took a deep, appreciative breath as a soft breeze wafted by.

Rue stretched out her arms to let the air better penetrate her lavender hunting coat and cool her off. She dressed in as practical a manner as possible for the weather, wearing only a simple linen tunic and brown trousers under her jacket, but she still felt like a bag of sweat after the hours spent in the humid woods.

While Sera sat down in the shade for a rest and a bite of jerky from her backpack, Rue took the moment of peace to pace about and fiddle with a rotating spinner ring on the thumb of her right hand. It had an outer border of red gold and an inner band of silver, and had seen much use in its time with Rue. It made a delicate  _clink-clink_ with every spin she made on the silver band, helping her to better contemplate their current position and the possible location of their quarry.

 _This was the direction it went_ , she thought as she surveyed the valley. She ground her boot into the earthy floor, still rotating the ring. "It's soft here. If he ran through, he'd make tracks," she muttered to herself.

"Wassat?" Sera had been etching pictures in the soft soil with her finger (the most thorough drawing was of a cross-eyed deer with several arrows in its rump) and only faintly heard the Inquisitor's murmurs.

"Tracks. Help me find them." This statement earned an unexpected fit of giggles from Sera. Rue turned to her, an eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Like these?" Barely able to contain herself, she pointed to the cloven hoof marks imprinted in the ground before her.

Rue slapped her forehead with her palm. "You've been sitting on the tracks for five whole minutes and you didn't  _say anything?_ "

"I was waitin' for our fair Lady Inquisitor to work her  _trackin' magic_ ," Sera playfully answered, wiggling her fingers at the end of her sentence.

The Inquisitor thought of making a record of how many times she'd shaken her head at Sera that day as she noted the direction of the hoof prints. They seemed to lead straight into a neighboring rocky pass near one of the great many hills that inhabited the lower slopes of the Frostback Mountains. This put her on edge, since there were plenty of hiding places behind those rocks; not only for wildlife, but for bandits as well. The Inquisition's campsite was several kilometers away, so there was no going back for Blackwall without admitting defeat for the day. Rue relayed the information.

"Well, we came  _this_ far," said Sera, standing up and brushing bits of jerky from her red tunic. "Might as well go get that damn deer. We're quiet –  _most_  of the time, anyway – so we should have no problems. If things go tits up, we'll just turn 'round and run, yeah?"

Resolved to finish what they started, the two rogues marched toward the rocky pass. It didn't take long for Sera to get bored again, though, so she began to tell a story of the time she put herbal laxatives into the tea of a baroness who was rather abusive to her kitchen staff. She was just getting to what she called "the best part" when she stopped in her tracks.

"D'you hear that?"

It was barely audible at their distance, but distinct. Rue heard the sound of hissing, followed by snapping and crunching. Before she could say anything, a jolt of pins and needles shot through her left hand as her mark sparked bright green in color. A fade rift was nearby.

"Behind the rocks," Rue whispered urgently, indicating the boulders ahead.

They moved with greater stealth than before, keeping low and light on their feet. The sound grew louder as they drew nearer, and Rue could see a faint green light emanating from behind one of the taller rocks. The sound was that of chomping and chewing, of demons feasting. The elves positioned themselves behind a low boulder for cover, and Rue carefully peeked over to see what was in store for them.

Three large, humanoid creatures were hunched over the mutilated remains of a deer, their slender, needle-sharp claws tearing into the carcass and stuffing handfuls of dripping red meat into their gaping maws. Their grey, waxy skin was stretched tight on thin bones and muscle, and the parts of the face that weren't obscured by tattered robes mimicked that of a decomposed corpse. The things had the face of a human, but no nose or lips; only slits where nostrils would be, and rows of long, jagged teeth that jutted from blackened gums. The ominous glow of the crystalized fade rift loomed behind as they greedily packed their mouths with gobs of flesh and bone.

"Ulgh!" Sera exclaimed in disgust, clearly regretting her decision to sneak a peek herself. "Don't tell me that's  _our_ deer." She gave a pained look, identifying the big hole that Rue had made in its ear mere hours ago. All that time spent chasing it, only for a pack of demons to eat it instead.

Rue was fuming. She watched as her stag was devoured by those… _things_. She thought of all the time spent tracking it; of dragging Sera through the sweltering woods and her subsequent whining; of having not eaten since breakfast at dawn that morning; of every other little thing that had gone wrong since she woke up. Something inside her snapped.

"Those sons of bitches!" she hissed, balling her hands into fists atop the boulder.

"What kind of demons  _are_ they, anyway?"

"Doesn't matter. They're dead," the Inquisitor snarled through gritted teeth as she ripped two daggers – one with a jet black blade made of onyx and the other rusty red and made from drakestone – from their sheaths on her back.

"Whoa! Hold a tick!" Exclaimed Sera, grabbing her firmly by the arm. "Normally I'm all for chargin' in, arrows flyin', but we don't even know what these things  _are!_ "

"That's  _our deer!_ " Rue spoke louder than she had intended, yet the demons on the other side of the boulder seemed oblivious. "I've diligently tracked it all morning, and these bastards think they can just swoop in and  _eat it in front of me?_ No. Dead." She then stared at her daggers intently. "Pepper, Paprika…It's time for vengeance." She turned her gaze back to Sera, ignoring her raised eyebrows at the unusual burst of rage. "I'm taking them. You've got my back?"

Sera nodded, dropping her backpack and readying her bow. "Ready when you are, Boss."

Rue nodded and crept around to the other side of the boulder. The skeletal demons continued to feast while she – cloaked in shadow, despite the daylight – slinked with the silence of a practiced assassin toward the creature in the middle. She readied her blades that she dubbed Pepper and Paprika, and as the gluttonous demon raised its head to swallow, threw her arms around its neck and severed its head with a swift slice. The demon dissolved into the rift before its body could fall to the floor, and Rue became visible to the previously unaware monsters.

Their mouths dripped with the blood of their prey as they hissed in surprise at Rue's arrival. Before they could move, however, Sera leapt atop a rock behind them and peppered the skeletal monsters with two arrows each, screaming, "Eat it, ya sick sacks o' deer guts!"

The demons became panicked, their tattered robes flailing as they shrieked and writhed in pain. Wasting no time, Rue spun around and thrust her marked hand at the looming green rift in the sky. Once she ripped it open, the grey skeletal figures crumpled to the ground, weakened. She watched as Sera loosed an arrow precisely between the eyes of the twitching demon to her left, sending it into the Fade as well.

The final demon was felled with two blades ripping its back open from its boney shoulder blades to the base of its spine. After all three creatures returned to the Fade, Rue raised her marked hand to the rift once more, and with the clenching of her fist, she slammed it shut.

For the next few seconds, only heavy breathing permeated the silence until Rue slid her daggers back into their sheaths, and Sera let out a loud sigh. "Hoo! That could've gone worse."

"Yeah," replied Rue, "I'm glad to see you got your accuracy back, though."

"Shut it, you!" Sera pursed her lips in displeasure, until she saw Rue staring mournfully at the eviscerated remains of the stag they had been chasing. "It's all right, Inquisitor," she said in an immediate change of tone. "We can always go huntin' again, and I'm sure Blackwall caught all kinds of fish to serve to good ol' Bann What's-his-face, right?" She flashed the Inquisitor a wide, cheesy grin in an effort to cheer her up.

Appreciating Sera's encouragement, Rue smiled weakly in response. "Yeah. You're right. The day was such a waste, though." She shook her head in disappointment and went to retrieve her and Sera's bags of supplies from behind the boulder they had used as a hiding place. "Come on, lets head ba—"

Rue's words caught in her mouth when she looked up. She dropped her jaw as well as the two leather backpacks.

There was no way this was real. It couldn't be.

There, on a grassy knoll ahead, munching contently on a patch of dandelions, was a large, brown stag.

* * *

 

Blackwall was at a loss for words when he saw Rue and Sera stumble into camp at dusk. He had been tending to three large bass roasting on the open camp fire, and was just about to sprinkle some rosemary and thyme that he had gathered and crushed himself when the elves shambled into view. They were hauling a long, thick tree branch between them; the body of a full-grown stag, its ankles bound to the branch, swayed back and forth as they marched.

"Maker's balls! Are you two all right?"

The deer's body hit the ground with a  _thunk._  Sera crumpled to the floor and sprawled her limbs out with an obnoxiously loud sigh. Rue nursed the sore shoulder that had carried the weight of the carcass.

"Stupid…fucking… _deer!_ " Sera cried from the ground. "Whatever mead's in the storage tent, bring it out, 'cause I'm drinkin' this day gone!"

Blackwall helped Rue bundle the carcass in a thick canvas tarp. She told him of the day's events, and he listened in amusement until she mentioned the encounter with the unknown demons.

"I can only guess that they were demons of hunger. I've never seen ones that do what they did to that animal." Rue furrowed her brows in contemplation as she tightened the knot securing the tarp.

"I should have been with you," muttered Blackwall beside her as he fastened the rope on his end. "The fishing could've waited, and with things being the way they are…"

"We handled it," Rue answered confidently. "They weren't half as troublesome as we thought they might have been."

"All the same, My Lady," Blackwall looked at her with a serious expression, "if something happened to you, I—we…well, the Inquisition would fall apart."

"Blackwall…" Rue smiled at him warmly. "You needn't worry about me." Feeling bold, she placed a slender, reassuring hand on his.

"My lady…"

"You two are takin' an awful long time over there," Sera called from beside the camp fire, emphasizing the words "awful" and "long". She had retrieved three bottles of mead from one of the tents and was uncorking all of them. "If ya don't hurry up, I'm gonna eat these fish by myself!" She didn't say anything beyond that, but Rue could see Sera's knowing grin in the firelight.

They both chuckled and straightened up. Rue was slightly reluctant to take her hand from Blackwall's, but once she remembered that she hadn't eaten since breakfast, she suddenly felt much hungrier than before.

The sun had sunk behind the horizon, and the evening's first stars dimly twinkled in the twilight sky by the time the last of dinner's bones had been discarded into the fire. Sera filled three goblets to the brim with mead and handed two to Rue and Blackwall, sitting on the ground beside them. In the roaring light of the campfire, she heartily raised her cup. "Here, to a piss-poor day endin'…not so piss poor!"

The other two raised their goblets enthusiastically with cheers in agreement. After their toast, Sera jokingly asked Blackwall to regale them with his "thrilling fishing excursion" while Rue listened, spinning the silver band on her ring and taking several more swigs from her goblet.

"Saw you playin' with that earlier," said Sera after a few minutes, pointing at the Inquisitor's thumb. "What's the story with it? Gift? Stolen? Promise to a lover to keep your legs crossed?" Blackwall grunted louder than he meant to at Sera's last suggestion, causing her to cackle impishly.

Rue laughed as well. "Gift," she answered, taking another drink. "From my cousin while she was in the Circle of Montsimmard."

"Whoa!" Sera sat upright. "Circle? Your cousin's a  _mage?_ "

"This is the first time I've ever heard you talk about your family," Blackwall added. "Since you're Dalish and all, this seems like a privilege." He smiled at her, and she at him.

"Well, it never really came up, now, did it? But yes, Alassiel's a mage."

"Now  _there's_ an elfy name if I ever heard one.  _Alassiel._ " Sera laughed at the way she pronounced the name, nearly falling onto her back.

Blackwall sidled closer to Rue in order to get a better look at the ring. Simply being in closer proximity didn't hurt him, either. "So…not to feed stereotypes, but is it enchanted?"

Rue was amused by the question. "Actually, yes. Alassiel imbued it herself. A Ring of Focus, as it turns out. Not that she could tell me that in her letter, of course. She simply said that it would bring me luck and help me to concentrate. It wasn't until later that I learned just how  _much_ it helped me concentrate; my aim and precision had never been this good before. It doesn't hurt that I can now read all of Josephine's reports without falling asleep."

"So what you're sayin' is that you're really a big, fat cheater," Sera taunted, pouring herself another full cup of mead. "So, Ali-lassie. She got the same white-ass hair you do?"

"It's not  _white!_ " Rue objected, causing a minor spill from her goblet as she pointed at her own head. "But yes, the hair runs in our family. Light hair, light skin, burn easy in the sun…And it's  _Al-AH-ssee-el._ "

"Whatever," Sera retorted flippantly. "Ya shouldn't be givin' your kids such complicated names."

"There's actually a funny story behind that one," said Rue, trying and failing to contain a chuckle. "See, when Alassiel was born, she was quite long. Everyone thought for sure that she'd grow into a tall, strong scout one day – like her mother – so they named her Bellasiel, which means 'strength'. I'm five years older than her, so it had fallen on me to mentor her as we grew up. I took to the bow and daggers really well at a young age, but Bellasiel, well…"

"Wasn't the sharpest dagger on the belt?" Sera snorted into her cup.

"She wasn't actually dim, mind you, but my aunt and uncle were concerned. She was distracted most of the time, and often spoke of friends that no one else could see and how she would meet them in her dreams. All the signs were there, but we simply didn't see it. That is, until one day when she came to me with a 'trick' she wanted to show."

"Oh, no," Blackwall grimaced.

"Oh,  _yes_ ," Rue sighed. "She took me into her tent and made it snow. _Snow! Inside!_ Ice magic, of all things. Well, there went Auntie and Uncle's dream of Bellasiel following in her mother's footsteps. So, they made a decision: 'At least our child is a sweet and happy one, so let's name her  _Alassiel_ instead.' Yes, at the age of  _seven,_ let's rename our child 'Joy'."

"Why was the name change so important?" asked Blackwall as he refilled his goblet.

"Family tradition. Like our vallaslin." Rue indicated the tattoos that ran like deep green branches under her eyes and fanned out at her ears and temples. They rather resembled deer antlers. "When Dalish children come of age, they receive their blood markings from their clan's keeper. I think in most Dalish clans, the individual elf selects a deity whose markings they'll bear. For us, though, it's a family thing; families have patron deities and generally all get the same blood marking. Ours is that of Mythal, for example."

"Ugh, I'm learnin'  _way_ more 'bout this Dalish shit than I ever wanted," Sera interjected, deep in her cups at this point. "Ain't this supposed to be secret stuff, anyway?"

Rue laughed. "I trust you two to keep my secrets. If you tell anyone, I'll just have to  _kill you._ " She gave a look of mock-intensity.

"Your name seems a bit different, then," said Blackwall, interested in her history. "'Rue' doesn't exactly sound elvish."

"Ah, yes. You'd be correct." Rue admitted. "I changed it when the…when the Templars came for my cousin." Her sigh was pained. How would she tell the rest of the story?

Blackwall seemed to realize that they were heading into sensitive territory. "We don't have to talk about—"

"What happened?" Sera interrupted Blackwall, much to his displeasure.

Rue shook her head, contemplating the right words to say. "Dalish elves don't join circles. They live as apostates in our clans and are taught to control their powers by our keepers. As long as our people aren't freely casting magic in front of humans, no one can touch them. Well, it was the day right after Alassiel turned thirteen and received her vallaslin; we were trading with a group of merchants when one of them caught her freezing a small pond so she could skate around on it."

She gritted her teeth angrily, staring down at her empty cup. "And those…damn those Templars…why'd they have to be  _there?_  They couldn't wait to demand that Alassiel be given to them so they could lock her away in a tower. And our keeper, to avoid a skirmish right then and there, just… _gave her up._  No one fought back against the demand; no one. Not the keeper, not my aunt or uncle… _No one_."

Blackwall and Sera were completely silent. Hardship and loss claimed nearly everyone in the Inquisition, but this was the first time they had heard of any of it from their Inquisitor. "I was able to say good-bye before they took her. When I hugged her, I told her to look for letters from Rue, since I knew she wouldn't be able to contact any of her family once in a circle. And so my name was changed. I all but disowned my clan after that.

"Sorry," Rue said abruptly, rolling her shoulders as though she were shaking off the heavy feelings, "I guess it wasn't a very funny story after all."

"No need to apologize to us," said Blackwall. "We all need to share our burdens once in a while. You're no exception."

"Where's Ala…lassie—where's your cousin now?" Sera asked, a slight slur in her voice.

"Honestly…we don't know. When the mage rebellion started, we hoped that she would come home. We never saw her, though, and I never got any more letters. That was the other reason I was at the Conclave: To see if Alassiel was among the mages." Rue remembered the violent eruption at the Conclave; the destruction, the burning bodies. She shuddered. "Now I'm hoping against hope that she wasn't there."

"Perhaps you could see about using some of the Inquisition's resources to locate her?" Blackwall suggested, scratching his thick, black beard.

Rue looked at him, a spark of initiative growing in her bright green eyes. "Yeah, perhaps I will. It would be good to know what happened to her, for closure's sake. I'll speak to Leliana when we get back." She then placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Blackwall."

After a few moments, Sera suddenly leapt from her seat, stumbling backwards slightly. "Good, now we've got a plan of action!" she slurred loudly. "But…I'm glad it's waitin' 'til tomorrow, 'cause I think it may be sleepy time now…eh? So, Blackwall, Rue—wait, no…Inky! Heh, heh, Inky-Rue…See ya when the sun's out!" With that, she shambled into a nearby tent. A loud  _thud_ followed by immediate, audible snores let Rue know that Sera had passed out.

She and Blackwall sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the embers before them. The campfire had burned low and was only faintly licking the remains of the fire wood. "Well," Rue finally spoke, "All-in-all, I had a great evening. Thank you for listening to me."

"Will you be all right?" he asked, taking her hand in his reassuringly.

Rue stared into Blackwall's icy-blue eyes and leaned in closer. "It's good to know you care," she whispered.

With his other hand, he softly ran his fingers through her cropped blonde hair before caressing her cheek. "I care for you greatly, My Lady."

"You can call me 'Rue' when we're together…"

It was as if his senses had suddenly slapped him straight in the face at her words. "No," Blackwall replied abruptly as he sharply pulled his hands away. His expression was pained, yet he stood and slowly made his way to his tent. He turned back to Rue before ducking out of sight. "I can't, My Lady.  _We_ can't."

"Blackwall…" Rue's heart felt heavy at Blackwall's words. To be so bound by duty that one would not allow for even a moment of happiness? She didn't understand. She would respect his decision, however, despite her resentment for the circumstances that surrounded it. Sighing sadly, she at last stood and turned herself in for the night.

As she lay back on her cot, her head sinking into her soft feather pillow, she allowed her mind to flit from Blackwall to pondering the next day's challenges. They would have to tear down the campsite at dawn, haul the equipment – and the large stag carcass – across the Southern Frostback Mountains and back to Skyhold, and finally, she would speak to Leliana about locating Alassiel. Yes, tomorrow was going to be busy.

Rue simply didn't realize  _how_ busy it would be.

 


	2. The Visitor

Rue was woken from her heavy sleep by the sound of fingernails daintily scraping the entrance fold of her canvas tent. She groaned and rolled over, throwing her soft wool blanket over her cropped blonde head in protest.

"I'm wa-a-a-aiting!" sang a childish voice on the other side of the tent.

More guttural noises came from Rue. She refused to leave the seductive comfort of her bed and tightly curled up under the covers, trapping the air around her like a fortress of warmth.

"Come  _on!_ " The voice was less patient now. "The sun's coming up. It's time to go!"

Rue could hear the sound of little fingers fumbling with the knots that held the entrance of the tent shut.

She snorted. _Really?_

Light footsteps were heard upon the ornate carpets that covered the floor of her pavilion. Stealth was clearly being attempted here, but implementation was left wanting. She readied herself.

Right when the creeping sound stopped at the edge of her bed, Rue pounced. She rolled over, threw her arms around Alassiel's tiny frame and yanked her into bed. Cackling in triumph, she proceeded to tickle her cousin into submission, little legs flailing and kicking uncontrollably as a result. Once Alassiel's laughter reached a pitch that threatened to wake others in the camp, Rue ceased the relentless assault and allowed the thirteen-year-old to breathe.

"You are the worst sneaker in existence," she scolded with a grin, sitting up and dangling her slender legs off the edge of the bed.

"That's not a word," Alassiel argued through gasps of air as she too sat up and brushed her long, pale blonde hair out of her eyes.

"It is now."

The younger elf pursed her lips in displeasure for all of two seconds before remembering why she came. "I have Papa's fishing rods outside; they're all strung up and ready for us."

The large, deep-blue eyes Alassiel inherited from her mother brimmed with excitement, and she rocked back and forth on the bed as though her body couldn't properly contain the energy within.

Rue yawned and stretched her arms to the ceiling. "You  _really_ want to go, don't you?"

"Yes!" Alassiel replied as though Rue had just asked the dumbest question ever. "You promised you would take me this morning since I couldn't go with you and Papa last time." She was hanging on her cousin’s arm at that point, who sighed and pulled her elbow free.

"All right, you win." Rue shook her head and jumped off of the bed, stiffly walking to a large trunk on the other side of the tent. "Just let me get dressed." No sooner had she finished her sentence than Alassiel disappeared from the tent in a flash of blonde locks and happy squeals.

With each carrying a simple fishing rod and Rue in charge of the breakfast basket, the two set off for a small pond near their clan's current encampment. Rue was still trying to shake off the last remnants of sleepiness when she noticed Alassiel gingerly touching one of her temples, upon which streaked vibrant ink that flowed around and under her eyes like tiny rivers. The design was identical to Rue’s except, unlike her older cousin’s deep forest green, hers was a fresh blue hue with borders of angry red skin.

"How does your vallaslin feel?" Rue asked.

“Better now,” Alassiel answered with a slight smile.  “A lot better than yesterday, anyhow.” She made a face. “It burned like stinging nettles then.”

“And yet you didn’t cry.”

“Nope!”

“I bet Aunt Sharanni and Uncle Nerel were so proud of you.”

“Yep!”

Rue grinned at Alassiel with pride of her own. She had confidence in her little cousin, but she also knew how sensitive to pain she could be. It was inspiring to see her make it through the arduous process of the blood writing without shedding a single tear nor emitting a hint of a whimper.

With a loving pat on her shoulder, Rue steered Alassiel further down the path.  They weren’t far from the pond now.

The sky slowly became a more brilliant blue as the morning mist gradually dissolved. Rue spent the next few minutes venting about how miserable she was the day after receiving _her_ blood markings, having to hunt for pheasants while her face burned from the newly imprinted ink. She stopped talking, however, when she realized that she didn't hear an extra pair of feet beside or behind her anymore.

Turning around, she saw Alassiel had stopped walking about four meters back, staring at something off to her left. "Are you all right?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Alassiel’s face contorted with concern before she looked back at her cousin. “Do you hear that?” she asked, brows still furrowed. “Someone’s crying.”

Rue, who was well-known in the clan for her hunting and tracking skills, became alert and strained her ears in the same direction Alassiel had been staring, but she heard nothing.  She shook her head.

Her heart then stopped when Alassiel carelessly dropped her fishing rod and bolted from the path and into the woods, her blonde locks trailing behind her.  “I think they’re in trouble!” she cried over her shoulder as an apparent afterthought.

“Alassiel!” Rue cried in surprise, throwing her own fishing rod and basket of breakfast biscuits to the ground and charging after her little cousin.  “What do you think you’re doing?  Come back!”

Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. She chased her cousin over fallen, rotten trees and through the occasional mulberry bush, though with more caution than zeal.  If she truly wanted to catch Alassiel, the pursuit would have been over already. 

No, part of her wanted to know what Alassiel was hearing.  Where was she going?  If there _was_ someone who needed help, she felt it wrong to simply leave them in the woods alone. 

Rue kept the little elf in her sights, her well-trained feet landing with nary a sound upon the dry autumn leaves—a stark contrast to Alassiel’s rapid crunching as she ran.

When the faint sound of distant wailing reached her ears, Rue’s right hand shot up to grasp the copper hilt of Paprika, her new drakestone dagger. Something was wrong.  Even if Alassiel miraculously developed hearing superb enough to notice crying at such a distance, nothing natural could make the sound that resonated through Rue’s ears just then.

It was a haunting cry, one that could only be described as something that drowned in a pit of tar before somehow crawling back out and bawling with choked, gurgling lungs. This wasn’t a cry for help; this was a _lure._

Rue’s speed quickened. She was suddenly less interested in knowing who (or what) was crying, and more concerned with getting Alassiel home safely.

Her little cousin disappeared into a thick hedge of bushes and tree branches, and Rue, desperate to catch Alassiel at this point, blundered blindly after her, her left arm thrown up to protect her face from the sharp, unforgiving brushwood around her.

The branches scraped like claws on her hand and exposed forearm, but Rue ignored the stinging and pushed forward. When she burst free into a small, grassy clearing, she spotted Alassiel and slowed her gait, realizing the little elf had stopped running. When she saw what her cousin was staring at, however, she froze as well.

There, in the middle of the clearing, was a monstrous, wailing creature. It curled into a writhing ball of many snake-like legs and arms in the center of a large ring of stone; seven small pillars, about the height of Rue’s knee, stood erect around the thing, each painted with a curious symbol in what she sincerely hoped wasn’t blood.

When it seemed to notice the presence of the elves, it ceased its nauseating cry and uncoiled itself. Its countless, sickly green legs made several wet, squelching noises as they hit the ground, making Rue’s hairs stand on end. It resembled a giant, soaked spider with a spindly, pale woman’s upper half where the head would be.

If it had eyes, Rue couldn’t see them through the black, matted mess that appeared to be its hair. It seemed to see them just fine, however, as it swiveled its “feminine” torso between her and Alassiel, apparently considering something. Then, to Rue’s horror, it held its gaze on her cousin.

“Please…” it groaned weakly in the same, unnatural voice from before, “help me.”

Rue threw her arm out in Alassiel’s direction. “Alassiel,” she said in a low, cautious voice, “come on. Leave it.”

“Please!” it cried this time, painstakingly dragging its barely structured body toward the elves.

Alassiel stared at her cousin in desperation. “Look at her, Pryswyn! I think she needs help.”

“I said, _leave it_.” Rue raised her voice, never taking her eyes off of the obvious demon in the cage of stone. “Let’s go home. Deshanna will know what to—”

“ _No!_ ” it screamed, curling into a sad little ball again. It pointed a long, claw-like finger at Alassiel, speaking to her directly. “Don’t leave me! I was trapped— _bound_ here! By a mage! I just want to go home!”

“Yeah, and he probably bound you there for a reason, you fucking monster!” Rue fired back, overwhelmed with fury at this thing’s clear attempt to manipulate her cousin.

“Pryswyn!” Alassiel cried, her blue eyes wide with shock. “How can you say that? She’s just a little girl!”

Rue was stunned, the statement sending chills up her spine as Alassiel approached the sopping creature. “Alassiel…”

“How can we help?”

“Stop.”

It smiled.  She _saw_ it smile beneath that ratty black mane. It was deceiving Alassiel. It had her in its hands, and it knew it. She felt sick.

 “Just break the seal,” it pleaded to Alassiel. “Reach your hand in and disrupt the field. Then I’ll be free, and I can go home.”

When Alassiel nodded, Rue’s blood turned to ice. She ran to stop her cousin. “Alassiel! Wait!”

As she drew closer, however, her skin began to tingle faintly, as though something chilled in the air was pressing against her. Something was very wrong.

Suddenly, the air became so thick that she felt as though she had fallen into a pit of syrup; it was difficult to breathe, and even more difficult to move. She was less than a meter from Alassiel, and yet she could get no closer. Her heart pounded in terror as she watched her cousin reach a little hand out toward one of the pillars, seemingly unaware that Rue was right behind her. She tried to call her name again, but no words came out.

Fog began to cloud her vision and surround her, as though some force were trying to obscure and separate Alassiel from her. Mustering every last ounce of strength she had, Rue took a deep breath and managed to force one word from her mouth in a shrill scream.

" _ALASSIEL!_ "

"Rue…Rue? Hey, Inquisitor! Snap out of it!" Sera was shaking Rue hard, desperately trying to get her attention. Rue gasped as she was forced back into the present and looked around in confusion.

She, Sera, and Blackwall were standing on a well-trodden path in the middle of a large, thick forest of evergreen trees, the mighty fortress of Skyhold visible in the distance. Just another hour of uphill trudging and they would be home. Rue remembered their day-long journey back from the lower slopes of the Frostback Mountains, but recent events were hazy and all but forgotten.

Sera let go of the Inquisitor’s shoulders and sighed in relief. "You scared us for a minute there, y'know?"

Blackwall approached her with a full waterskin, concern painted all over his face. "You just…stopped walking and began to spin your ring," he said, handing the container of water to her. "Drink it. You're as pale as the snow right now."

Rue slowly uncorked the waterskin and brought the opening to her mouth. As she drank, she thought back to what she had just seen. "I…I had a memory of my cousin when we were children," she muttered, handing the waterskin back to Blackwall.

"Your cousin?" repeated Sera. "The mage?"

"Yes," Rue answered. "The sooner we get back, the better. I need to speak with Leliana."

"You think your cousin could be in trouble?" asked Blackwall as the three set off toward Skyhold once more.

"I'm not sure, but I'll feel a lot better once I know where she is." Rue stared down at the ring on her thumb.

Did it have something to do with what she saw? She only vaguely remembered spinning it with her index finger before seeing the vivid daydream, the product of a distant memory. It felt like she was eighteen years old again and in the forests of the northern Free Marches.

That voice, though; who had that been? It sounded familiar, yet different…

"I dunno, that was too damn creepy. You should throw that thing away." Sera also eyed the ring, but with suspicion rather than curiosity. "Somethin' that can pull you out of reality shouldn't fit on a finger."

"It's never done that before, though," said Rue, her eyebrows furrowed, "and I'm not going to throw away my only connection to Alassiel. Let's just get home."

* * *

 

Even in the summer, the mountain air was crisp and cool. It wafted by Rue and her companions as they marched across the grand bridge to Skyhold, and they let out a collective sigh of contentment; lugging camping gear and a hundred and fifty pound stag for several kilometers would make anyone sweaty and tired (and maybe a bit irritable).

The Inquisition soldiers had been running their late-morning drills when Rue passed the large gate. They would drop to the ground to do five pushups, hop back to their feet for ten Jumping Jacks, then repeat the process. The amount of repetitions required was strictly at the mercy of Cullen and Cassandra, who could be seen prowling around the platoon of soldiers like hungry tigers. At the sight of the Inquisitor, however, they both straightened up.

" _Inquisition_!  _Attention!_ " Cassandra barked intensely.

The men and women on the ground scrambled as quickly as they could to their feet and stood rigid. Like the well-rehearsed army they were, they mimicked Cassandra and Commander Cullen as they respectfully saluted with their right fist over their heart. Rue saluted in turn, then waved for them to carry on with their day. Cullen grinned and turned to the platoon, commanding the recruits to run ten laps around the entire courtyard.

While the commander pursued the troops, Seeker Cassandra approached the Inquisitor, her hands crossed cordially behind her back. "Did you have a nice trip?" asked the tall black-haired woman with a knowing smile, looking over Rue's flushed complexion and the group's dirt-caked clothes.

"Could have been worse," Rue answered, scratching her head. "I’d kill for a warm bath, though."

"I'm sure Josephine will see that one is drawn up for you, murder-free," said Cassandra with a mild chuckle.

"Is there a place we wanna put this dead-ass deer, or…" Sera and Blackwall had been sharing the load of the deer carcass for the last kilometer or so of travel, and the city elf was beginning to slouch under the weight. She stared at the wrapped up carcass with contempt.

"The cellar would be the best place," Cassandra answered. "It's cold enough in there to keep the meat fresh."

"Great! Now, who wants to carry it? 'Cause I'm done luggin' it around," said Sera, shifting like she was ready to take the weight off of her shoulder. No one was sure if she was joking or not.

"You  _cannot_ be serious." Cassandra folded her arms impatiently, incredulous at Sera's apparent laziness. "You carried it all the way here, and now you're telling me you can't handle a few more—"

"I can help."

A soft voice behind Cassandra cut her off, which made her twitch in alarm. Cole, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, emerged from behind the seeker and strode toward Sera. She became visibly distressed as he stared at her from under is large, floppy hat. It was no secret that he made her nervous. "Your body hurts, but I can take the weight for you. I can help."

"S-sure. Fine. Whatever," said Sera, her face that of one who had just seen a snake slither across her shoes.

"Hold on now," objected Blackwall, glancing back at Sera in alarm. "Just look at him! The boy's built like a dry twig! Can he even handle the weight?"

"Yes," Cole answered bluntly, waiting for Sera to pass him the lower half the deer.

Everyone watched with baited breath as Sera hesitantly shifted the weight from her shoulder to the thin young man's, expecting him to drop like a sack of potatoes. Surprisingly, however, he stood tall and stable, and the two were able to set off toward the lower chambers of Skyhold. A sigh of relief could be heard from Blackwall as they left.

Sera pranced away before Cassandra could try to scold her for shucking off a task like she did, and Rue began her trek to Skyhold's rookery where Leliana tended to spend her day. She wanted to start a search for Alassiel before it slipped her mind.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra called and rushed to the upper courtyard to catch up to Rue. "Pardon me, but there  _is_ a matter that requires your attention. I meant to bring it up as soon as you returned."

"Oh?" Rue raised her eyebrows, intrigued.

"A woman arrived here mere hours before you did. An elf. Dalish, in fact."

"Okay, what did she—"

"She claims to be your  _cousin,_ Inquisitor."

Rue's jaw dropped. "Come again?"

Cassandra nodded with certainty at what she had said. "We weren't sure of the validity of this claim, of course, so we have her waiting in the Ambassador's office. She said her name was—"

"Alassiel?"

The Seeker was taken aback. "Yes, Inquisitor. Could she be who she says she is?"

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" Rue spoke calmly enough, but her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. What did this mean? Two nights ago, she had merely spoken of Alassiel. Then the daydream, and now…Could she really be waiting for her upstairs, in the Ambassador's office?

"One more thing, Inquisitor," said Cassandra as she followed Rue up the stairs to Skyhold's main tower. "We had to confiscate a staff that she brought with her. I was wondering if your cousin was an apostate."

"What? No! She studied in the Circle of Montsimmard in Orlais—well, before the mage rebellion happened, anyway." Rue was now hurrying up the stairs with Cassandra in tow.

She had to see for herself, had to know for sure. She stormed through the great hall, past the towers of support beams and the chattering nobles, falling deaf to any greetings she received on her way to Josephine's office. In the middle of the hall, she turned left, forcefully pushed open the first door, grabbed the handle of the second door and…froze.

Her breath caught in her chest as a thousand thoughts hit her at once. She hadn't seen her cousin in seven years. Not since the Templars took her away. Would she recognize her? What would she say? What if it wasn't even really her?

Rue stood there for what felt like several minutes, paralyzed with doubt, until she felt a firm yet reassuring hand grip her shoulder. Cassandra was standing beside her, her normally fierce brown eyes uncharacteristically warm and comforting. She said nothing, but her expression spoke volumes of her understanding of Rue's feelings. Cassandra had known the love and loss of family before, and her silent encouragement gave Rue the fortitude she needed to slowly turn the handle and push the door open.

There, on the other end of the large office, a slender figure stared quizzically at one of the bookshelves, apparently reading the titles on the spines of the various books upon it. Rue noticed her hair first; the pale golden strands, a feature shared among all members of Rue's family, now cut quite short, hanging above her shoulders in a well-kempt bob.

The circle must have taken good care of her; the rich, crimson, long-sleeved blouse that buttoned up to her throat appeared to be made of silk velvet, and her black skirt that fell below her knees had delicate gold trimming. Rue didn't know much about fashion, but she had heard from Vivienne that black stockings could be very expensive, as could black silk slippers.

As soon as she laid eyes on her, Alassiel turned from the bookshelf and smiled, her deep blue eyes matching the color of the vallaslin that branched from under her eyes to her temples and disappeared under her brow-length bangs. At that moment, Rue had forgotten that she was the Inquisitor, that they were in the middle of nowhere in the Frostback Mountains, that Cassandra was right behind her, everything.

"Hello, Rue," said Alassiel warmly, her voice soft and delicate.  Though she stood with as much poise as possible, Rue could see her pink little lower lip trembling.

She lost it. Rue was so overcome with emotion that she ran across the room with tears in her eyes and took her cousin tightly in her arms. She wanted to let herself go completely and just wail as loud as she could, but she was able to keep her sense of mind enough to hold it in.

"I'm so glad you're safe," she finally managed to utter in as stable a voice as she could.

"I'm so glad I  _found_ you!" answered Alassiel through her own sobs as she buried her face in Rue's chest.

Rue held her cousin for some time, at least until she realized that she could smell the earth on her hunting jacket and quickly pulled herself away. "Oh, gods! I just remembered how filthy I am. I don't want to get anything on your clothes—those look expensive!" She laughed in embarrassment and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Alassiel giggled and gently dabbed her own eyes with her sleeve to avoid smearing her makeup. "It cleans in cold water," she said reassuringly, not even bothering to look down at herself.

"Come, then. I'm sure we've got a spare guest room for you to stay in, and I can only imagine what you've been through to get here." Rue excitedly ushered her cousin out of the office and into the great hall. Cassandra followed behind them. "Oh, Cassandra! Can we have Alassiel's staff returned?"

"I'll see that it is brought to her," the seeker answered, amused by Rue's unusually frantic behavior. She then grabbed Rue firmly by the shoulder, causing her to spin around. "You should go clean up, Inquisitor. I will see to it that Mistress Lavellan is given a room in the meantime."

Rue began to object when Alassiel said, "I really don't mind, Rue. We've been apart for seven years; I can handle an hour to myself."

At Cassandra and Alassiel's insistence, Rue reluctantly agreed to take a quick bath. She promised she would be in and out as fast as she could. "You'll do no such thing," her cousin objected. "You'll take as much time as is necessary to be clean and relaxed. I remember the things that would nest in your hair when we were children, and I won't be leaving anytime soon."

Rue rolled her eyes, but conceded Alassiel’s point.  She left the two in the great hall and continued to her chambers. It was while she was soaking in the hot water of her private basin, alone with her thoughts, that Rue had a niggling feeling in the back of her mind. She lifted her hand and stared curiously at her spinner ring.  Remembering the vivid daydream from before, she gave the red gold band a spin with her index finger.  Nothing happened.

She furrowed her brows and sank deeper into her bath water in contemplation.  Why did Alassiel’s ring bring back such a vivid memory then?  And why _that_ memory?  Rue sighed and stared up at the high ceiling in her quarters. 

Perhaps there was nothing to it.  Perhaps the dream was an escape concocted by her exhausted mind, and her Ring of Focus simply facilitated that escape.  Yes, that was it.

Content with her conclusion, Rue dunked her whole body under the warm water to rid her hair of any twigs and dirt that may have found a home in it.

 


	3. Meeting in Val Chevin

“Pryswyn, what do you think happens when we die?”

“That’s a… _random_ question.  Why do you ask?”

“Keeper Deshanna says Falon’Din guides our souls to the Beyond.  He’ll lead us to the Eternal City where the gods wait for us…but my friends don’t think that’s right.”

Fifteen-year-old Rue shifted her weight on the large tree branch she sat upon, resting her back against the thick, smooth trunk and dangling a leg freely beneath her.  The two were perched a few meters up in a sturdy maple tree, a basket of sweet, flaky, red berry jam-filled pastries nested securely beside Rue.  She lowered a half-eaten treat from her mouth and studied Alassiel with concern; the child had been asking a lot of strange questions lately.

“Which friends are these?” she asked as she wiped a sticky bit of red jam from the corner of her mouth.

Alassiel brushed her freely flowing pale hair out of her face and looked up from the little linen doll in her hands.  Her blue, deep-set eyes gave a troubled look that told Rue all she needed to know.

“The ones in your dreams?”

The little elf remained silent as she stared back down at her doll, Shari, and hesitantly stroked the golden hair that her mother cut from her own head to dress it with.  For a moment, the only sound to break the silence was the excited chirping of a flock of birds nestled in the nearby branches.

Rue frowned as Alassiel visibly withdrew into herself.  She was right.  Her cousin had been talking to the creatures in the Fade, an act Keeper Deshanna had explicitly forbidden—especially in her case.

“Alassiel,” Rue persisted, leaning forward and resting her arm on her knee.  “Talk to me.  I won’t tell Deshanna, whatever it is.  I promise.”

A small, reassured smile peeked out at Rue’s last word.  The branch trembled as Alassiel stuffed Shari into the front of her blue wool apron dress to keep her safe.  She shuffled toward the trunk where her cousin sat, and Rue made room to allow Alassiel to nestle into her lap.

“Okay,” said Alassiel in an excited whisper, whipping Shari back out and holding her tightly to her chest.  “You know how Hallel and Revelyn are fighting?”

Rue nodded.  Hallel and Revelyn were friends of the family.  They tended to set up their pavilion near Rue’s aunt and uncle whenever the clan settled for a month or so.

“ _I_ know why,” Alassiel stated proudly.  “Revelyn was naked with another man in their tent.  He didn’t know Hallel would come back from fishing so soon.  That’s why Hallel is so angry, and that’s why he made Revelyn sleep outside that one night.”

Rue raised a bushy eyebrow at Alassiel’s story.  “Uh-huh.  And…your friends told you this?”

“They _showed_ me,” she answered with a sly giggle.

Rue resisted the urge to slap her palm against her face.  “And…this talk of death?”

“I told my friend about Falon’Din a few days ago.  Ani said she’d never seen an elf lead anyone to any kind of Eternal City.  But she promised to look for him.”

Rue brushed a knot out of Alassiel’s hair with her fingers while she spoke in an effort to appear nonchalant.  In truth, however, the story made her stomach churn with dread.

“Ani” was clearly a spirit.  But what sort of spirit was it, and just how long had Alassiel been communicating with these things— _against_ Deshanna’s orders?  Long enough to give them names, evidently.

Rue cleared her throat.  “And did… _Ani_ find him?”

Alassiel shook both her and Shari’s heads.  “No.  That’s why I wanted to ask you.”  She leaned her head against Rue’s chest and playfully rolled back as far as she could to make eye-contact.  “What do _you_ think?”

Rue pursed her lips to one side in consideration.  “I think you should be more wary around those things, da’len.  You don’t know what they really want from you.  It could be anything.”

“They just want to talk to me, Pryswyn.  They want to be my friends,” Alassiel responded matter-of-factly.

“How do you know?” Rue’s tone became stern.  “You know what Deshanna says about them.  They all seek this world.  What better way to get in than to gain the trust of a little elf mage and possess her?”

Alassiel hid her face somewhat behind her doll, clearly disparaged by her older cousin’s words.  “Ani wouldn’t do that…” she murmured in defiance.

Rue opened her mouth to continue the argument, but closed it again when a small thought rushed to the front of her mind.  It started as an itch in her brain when a warm breeze wafted by and ruffled her hair.  As the seconds passed, it dawned on her that something was blatantly out of place, and her muscles tensed as she surveyed her immediate surroundings with greater focus.

She filled her lungs with the afternoon air that was far too warm for this time of year, and a palpable, salty scent met her nose.

The birds that chirped in the surrounding trees:  The more she listened, the more Rue realized that it wasn’t the pleasant song of finches, robins, or cuckoos, but the obnoxious squawk of port town seagulls—fowl that belonged this far north of the Free Marches like liver belonged in jam-filled sweet rolls.

_This…is this real?_

“No.  The air is only salty by the sea.” 

Rue’s long ears perked at the hauntingly familiar disembodied voice.  Her alert eyes flitted about her green and gold surroundings until she caught the sudden appearance of patchy brown leathers and linen in her peripheral vision.  In a nearby branch to her left, slender legs lazily hanging in the breeze, large, droopy hat obscuring most of his face, sat a young man she recognized.  He seemed to be distracted by a chittering squirrel on the branch above him.

Rue blinked.  “…Cole?”

Cole pulled his attention from the energetic rodent and smiled.  “Yes.”

Rue frowned and blinked several more times, rubbing her temples with her thumb and middle finger as everything funneled together into a hazy realization:  This was all a dream.

“Hello!” Alassiel called in a sing-song voice, waving at the shabby-looking boy enthusiastically.

“Hello,” he repeated, mimicking her.

Then it _really_ set in, and Rue’s blood began to boil.  “Damnit, Cole!  What’re you doing here?”

“You were getting upset,” Cole answered plainly as he reached into the basket of pastries beside Rue.  Bits of flaky crust fell into his lap as he inspected the small treat in his hand.  “You have a lot of feelings.  About Alassiel, about magic, about spirits, too.  They’re then _and_ now; needles in your head, nagging, gnawing.  It hurts when you think about them, so you push them down—burying them in dark places so deep I almost can’t hear them.”

He shook his head as he broke the pastry in half, red jam slowly coating his fingers.  “But they come back.  They always do.  They come here, to familiar places where they can breathe and shout.  And they’re _loud._ ”

“What are you even _saying?_ ” 

Rue immediately regretted asking.

“ _I should have said more, done more.  Why did I leave it like that?  Maybe she never had to leave…damn you, Deshanna…_ ”

“Stop that!” Rue scrambled to her feet, dislodging the dream Alassiel from her lap and shaking the large branch violently.  She ignored the startled, frightened look of her little cousin’s doppelganger and instead pointed at Cole.  “Get out!”

“It wasn’t your fault—”

“I said _get out!_ ”

* * *

 

Blankets of soft cashmere rustled as Rue stirred and curled into a ball in her bed.  It was the biggest collection of feathers and cotton she had ever slept on, and it could easily fit three more of her comfortably—four, if she lay sideways at the others’ feet. 

She blinked and rolled onto her back, staring blearily at the blended colors of a rather intricately painted fresco on the ceiling.  Once she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Rue could more clearly see the glorified depiction of Andraste burning at the stake.  Her hair, which had been streaked with gold leaf, billowed majestically with the raging fire that surrounded her.

Rue’s eyes rolled over the iconic pierced heart, Andraste’s placid, skyward gaze toward the Chantry sun, and Maferath the Betrayer cowering off to the side with his ill-earned crown in hand.  She chuckled at the sight of his head cradled in his palm and the pained expression she could relate to.  A sort of “We spent _how_ many sovereigns to paint a flaming woman on the ceiling?” look.

The salty sea breeze that wafted through her open window with the bright morning sun invigorated Rue, and she stiffly sat up and surveyed the daytime surroundings of her suite.  The soft, minty green paneled walls were bordered with more gold leaf that lined the ceiling and corners of the spacious room.  Rue could have done without the over-the-top Andrastian art that lined the walls with their tragically explosive colors, but she understood why they were there.

Josephine, with that silver tongue and quill of hers, managed to use a few of her connections to secure a couple of rooms in one of the more luxurious inns of Val Chevin.  She couldn’t recall the inn’s name in that moment, but Rue was sure it had something to do with the giant golden poodle statue right in front of the building.

Having arrived so late in the evening with so little sleep during the trip, Rue hadn’t had time to appreciate the extravagant decorum of one of their finer suites before peeling off all but her under clothes and collapsing into the giant feather bed.  The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep was hearing the excited squeals of Alassiel at sharing such a beautiful room with her.

The thought of Alassiel made Rue skim the sea of ruby red cashmere for any sign of a lump that might have been her cousin.  There was no one else there, however; she must have gotten up already.  

Then Rue remembered her dream, the then nine-year-old Alassiel curling up in her lap, the basket of tasty jam-filled sweet rolls Aunt Sharanni would make, and the vague…cryptic…invasive words of…

Fueled by a sudden burst of alarm and ire, Rue leapt out of bed and looked around.  “Cole?” she called out firmly to the empty room.  “If you’re here, come out!  We’ve talked about this already!  You’re to stay out of people’s heads, _mine_ especially!  How are you even _here?_ ”

Receiving no response aside from the aggressive cawing of seagulls outside the window of her second story suite, she swiftly made for the door and grabbed the brass knob.  She halted mid turn, however, when she realized that she was about to wander into the halls of a ritzy inn in Orlais in nothing but her under tunic and braies.  The gossip alone would make Josephine faint in embarrassment.

Lavender coat ripped from the backrest of a nearby chair and boots thrown on with a rushed lace-up job, Rue marched—touseled hair and all—down the hard mahogany stairs to the main lobby of the inn.  A portly man with a two-toned chevron mask bowed respectfully upon her arrival.  She could sense his distress over her state of undress, but chose to ignore it for the time being. 

“Have any of my friends come down for breakfast?” she asked as politely as she could.

The man pointed to a large door beside the lobby desk that lead to the inn’s tavern.  “An impressively bearded fellow and a rather foul-mouthed elf entered not long ago, Your Worship.  They certainly didn’t sound from here.  Might they be the friends you speak of?”

Rue nodded before thanking the man and barging through the door. 

The tavern was sparsely populated so late in the morning, so Rue spotted Blackwall and Sera with little difficulty.  They were seated in a far corner, each with a porcelain cup of what looked like fancy Orlesian coffee.  Whatever they had been discussing ended abruptly when the city elf’s eyes wandered toward the purple coat and naked legs of the approaching Inquisitor.  She burst into laughter, which gave Blackwall cause to turn around in curiosity.

“Well!  Her Gracious Ladybits joins us for breakfast!” Sera jeered in amusement.  “You look right an’ ready for the Grand Ball, Rue!”  The Inquisitor gave a sarcastic sneer to Sera’s comments, which only made her laugh harder.

Blackwall struggled and failed to conceal his own chuckle, burying his face momentarily in his arms on the table.  “You seem to be missing a key component, though, my lady,” he admitted after lifting his head.  “Where are your pants?”

“I forgot to put them on, since I’m too busy wondering where _Cole_ is right now,” she answered with derision.

Sera’s laughter stopped and the color drained somewhat from her face, which gave Rue a small but satisfying taste of schadenfreude.

“What d’you mean?” she asked nervously.  “We…we left that thing in Skyhold.”  Rue’s skeptical look made Sera irate.  “Didn’t we?  Tell me we left it in Skyhold!”

Rue put her hands on her hips like a disapproving mother and shook her head.  “We certainly did.  I saw him in my dream, though—sitting in my tree and taking my sweet rolls—and I doubt that was just some trick of the Fade.”  She narrowed her eyes and scanned her surroundings with suspicion.  “He’s here in Val Chevin…somewhere.”

Sera shuddered while staring despondently at her half-empty cup of black coffee.  “Piss…”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” said Blackwall as he raised his steaming cup to his mouth.  “He hates it when we leave him behind.  Especially when we’re working in large cities like this.”

Rue gave a puzzled look before taking a seat in the chair beside him.  “How do you know?”

“Look at his face next time he learns we’re going somewhere without him.  Looks like a whipped puppy.”  Blackwall chortled.

“We’re here on business, though.  We don’t have time to hunt him down every time he runs after a crying baby or a feuding couple.”  Rue then looked at Sera, who had apparently gotten over the fact that Cole was lurking somewhere nearby and was now eyeing the many cakes that sat prettily on silver tiers on a nearby counter.  “Speaking of hunting, when do we meet that ‘friend’ of yours?”

Sera trotted over to the counter with the little frilly cakes and took one in each hand.  She shrugged in response as she reclaimed her seat with her prize.  “Dunno.”

There was a moment of silence as Rue blinked while the city elf took a large bite of the pink cake in her right hand, flecks of marzipan and crumbs of cake dropping onto the mahogany table.  “What do you mean, _you don’t know?_ ”

“I dunno!” she answered with a full mouth.  “If I knew who he was or where he’d be, we’d be bad at what we do.”  She swallowed.  “It’s better when we’re anonymous; less chance of a pissed-off big hat roundin’ us up and…I dunno, cuttin’ our fingers off or somethin’.  You know that!”

Rue cradled her head in her hands on the rich wooden table as she realized that she and her companions endured three days of bumpy, back-stiffening carriages and an entire day of vomit-filled sea fare to meet an unknown person at an unknown time and location.

Blackwall might have laughed, had the Inquisitor not looked so distressed.  “I thought you said you knew what you were doing,” he said to Sera.

“I did!  I do!”  Sera reached across the table and patted Rue on the shoulder in reassurance with her now empty right hand.  “Look, the Inquisition did a solid favor by sendin’ people to shake Duke Arsehole’s tree.”

“The Duke of Montelille,” Rue flatly corrected from behind her hands.

“Whatever.  Point is, a few burnin’ hay bales and missin’ supplies was _exactly_ the warning my ‘friends’ wanted.  Maybe Monte-Pissface will think twice before kickin’ his own people out their homes.”  Her expression went sour before blurting out the Duke’s bigger transgression. “…Or kidnapping them.” 

Like flipping a switch, her expression suddenly brightened.  “Now my ‘friends’ pay you back with some big, shiny news they think we might like to know.  Beautiful, yeah?”

Rue sighed and stood.  She wasn’t tremendously confident in Sera’s Red Jenny friends, but she was confident in her ability to pull success out of nowhere.  “All right.  But how do we know where, when, and who?”

Sera grinned shrewdly.  “He’ll let me know while we’re out in the square today.  Just gotta see the right signs.  Leave it to me, Your Inkiness!”

That was when Blackwall cleared his throat loudly before a heckling smile cracked beneath his thick, wooly beard.  “So, if this ‘friend’ of yours turns out to be another dolt leading us to an ambush, do we get some sort of compensation for our cuts this time?”

Sera scoffed.  “If this goes tits-up again—which it really, _really_ shouldn’t—I’ll hamstring everyone myself, make you jewelry from their tendons, and buy you as much of whatever drinks you want from the tavern—maybe even a fancy wench.  Saw one makin’ pretty at you last night.  Least, I think she was; had a face-load of mask on.”

“I’m set,” said Blackwall bluntly, yet with a hint of warmth that was almost shy.

Sera’s brow twitched suggestively after her eyes slyly flickered to Rue, who was busy searching the tavern for something.  “I bet, yeah.”

“By the way—” Rue looked back to her companions in time to catch Blackwall lightly slapping Sera’s teasing finger out of his face.  She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t address it.  “Have either of you seen Alassiel this morning?  She was already gone when I woke.”

Sera simply shrugged and rolled her eyes.  “Sorry.  Haven’t seen your prissy-pants cousin yet.”  She ignored Rue’s disapproving scowl.

“She may have gone outside,” said Blackwall, pointing to the tavern door that led to the lobby.  “The inn’s got an outdoor café as well.  You can’t miss it—it’s to the left of that giant poodle statue.”

Rue’s face lit up.  “You saw the golden poodle, too?”

“How could I _not?_ ”

* * *

 

The mid-morning sun shone proudly over the red brick rooftops of Val Chevin, challenged by nary a cloud in the vast, pale blue sky.  The cool sea air from the city’s docks filled the streets, keeping the otherwise hot summer atmosphere mild and pleasant.  The denizens of the city took advantage of such inviting weather and flooded the main square with masks, hats, and opulent outer wear.

Rue could hear the distant laughter and yells of children as she stepped outside the tall, grand doors of the inn (that she decided would now be named The Golden Poodle).  She caught a glimpse of small, flamboyantly bright silk garments running and spinning energetically around a marble fountain in the middle of the square that bore a resemblance to Andraste throwing her arms skyward.  At least, that’s what Rue presumed it to be; with so many holes and loops in the sculpture, it could have been a chunk of Antivan cheese, for all she knew.   

As she crossed the stone courtyard and approached the wooden deck of the inn’s outdoor café, a cool breeze from the fountain drifted by and chilled Rue’s bare legs.  She shivered and considered returning to her room for a pair of trousers when she noticed a small elf with a well-maintained blonde bob emerge from under one of the café tables. 

Rue watched as Alassiel dusted off the hem of her black skirt and the sleeves of her blue silk bodice before flitting about the deck with purpose, seemingly unaware of the curious stares she was attracting from other patrons with her behavior.  Alassiel then eyed the nearby golden poodle statue, grinned, and ran toward it with a slinking posture that would suggest an attempt at stealth.  She appeared to be searching for something.

Rue opened her mouth to ask what she was doing when a light voice practically whispered in her ear.

“I don’t understand.”

There was a _thunk_ and a frustrated yelp when Rue accidently slammed her hip into the wooden railing of the café’s deck in an effort to jump away from the young man beside her.

“Damnit, Cole!” she hissed through gritted teeth when she realized who it was.

“Sorry,” he murmured politely as Rue gingerly rubbed her throbbing hip. 

“Gods, that’s gonna leave a bruise… _what_ don’t you understand?”

Cole nodded in the direction of Alassiel, who was now scratching her head quizzically at not having found what she was looking for. 

“She was sad that they didn’t have the chocolate and cinnamon tea she liked—no, not sad; disappointed.  _No point being sad over tea.  That’s just silly._ But the nightmares of steel, screams, and scorched skin scared her, and she wanted something that reminded her of safe places.” 

Rue folded her arms in displeasure at Cole’s invasion of Alassiel’s thoughts, but allowed him to continue his story.  “A man at a table across the square had a cup of cinnamon tea brought to him.  A lady sitting nearby liked his smile.  She wondered what he looked like without his mask, maybe without his clothes.  I told him, and he left.  The tea would have gotten cold at the table, so I gave it to Alassiel.  She was surprised, but happy, even though I couldn’t find any chocolate.”

“And that’s strange to you?” Rue straightened up as the pain subsided from her hip.

“No,” Cole answered, his brows pinched in thought.  “She _remembers_ me!  When I brought her the tea, she was happy.  _Sensing, soothing, strange but sweet.  Who is this boy?_   When she asked me my name, I told her to forget.  I reached in to pull the part that doesn’t fit, but I…I _missed._   It slipped through my fingers, sliding, slithering away.”

Rue suppressed a laugh after imagining Cole trying to pull some sort of snake from Alassiel’s head while she sat in confusion.  This seemed to distress him. 

“It wasn’t like _that,_ ” he said scathingly.  “It was more like sand sifting through the cracks.  I couldn’t take it away—I couldn’t make her forget!  Not for more than a blink.  She felt me pulling at the places in her mind and asked what I was trying to do.  So I ran before she could blink again.”

“Why?” asked Rue.  “Knowing her, she probably knows what you are already, or at least has a fairly good guess.”

“She does,” Cole admitted.  “That’s why she’s looking for me.  She wants to ask to make sure.” 

He shrugged.  “I just…thought I had to go away.  Too many people, too many times wanting what I was gone.”

That was when Alassiel and Rue made eye contact, and Rue waved her over.  Her face lit up, and she sprang from the poodle statue and across the courtyard toward them with a smile.  Rue noticed Cole twitch backward in her peripheral vision.

“Don’t run,” she cautioned softly.  “She wants to meet you.  This is a good opportunity.”

Cole stayed put, though with visible reluctance; he began to fidget with his fingers anxiously.

“There you are!” Alassiel called as she came to an abrupt halt in front of Cole.  “Why did you run?  Rue, is this boy a friend of yours?  He’s _incredible!_ ”  Her gaze flickered like a candle flame between Rue and Cole as she spoke. 

Rue laughed at her unbridled gusto.  “You didn’t meet him at all during your week at Skyhold?”

“How _could_ I?” Alassiel asked with a strange look.  “You never told me about him.” 

Rue frowned thoughtfully.  It strangely hadn’t occurred to her to introduce Alassiel to Cole, despite having presented her to the rest of her inner circle.  The idea had slipped her mind entirely.  Suspiciously so, in fact.

Alassiel seemed to have decided to make up for their missing introduction; she took the silver-trimmed hem of her skirt between her fingers and curtsied with great flare in front of Cole.  “My name is Alassiel Lavellan. I am— _was_ an apprentice of the Circle of Montsimmard, and the daughter of Nerel and Sharanni Lavellan.”

“I’m Cole,” he responded with some confidence, his apprehension steadily giving way to curiosity for the prettily dressed elf bowing warmly before him.

Alassiel’s little rosy lips curled into a smile as she straightened herself.  “Lovely to meet you, Cole.”

“It is?  I’m glad!” he blurted out with a mix of surprise and relief. 

Rue and Alassiel snorted. 

“Ma falon d’elgar, Rue.  Where did you find him?”

Rue folded her arms.  “ _He_ found _me,_ to be accurate.  I’ll tell you about it later—or he can.  You’ll probably understand his cryptic babble better than most of us.”  She then cocked her head at her cousin with interest and grinned.  “You know what he is, then.”

“Of course,” came Alassiel’s cheery reply as she slid a hand under Cole’s elbow.  “May I?”

The boy cocked his head quizzically at her request, unaccustomed to this sort of attention, but he complied and straightened his arm, flexing his wrist so Alassiel could easily inspect his frayed sleeve.  She smiled at him in approval before taking the worn brown fabric between her fingers.

“Real linen,” she murmured intently while tugging on a loose thread.  “It’s not a part of you…you’re actually _wearing_ it.”

She then took Cole’s hand in hers, running her thumb delicately over the tiny lines and grooves of his fingertips. “His resemblance to a human is remarkable, Rue—flawless!  Look at these callouses!  Ooh…some rough patches, too…I have some balm in my satchel upstairs.  It should take care of that.”

Cole’s hand tremored and tensed somewhat in Alassiel’s grasp when she removed his tattered hand wrap and ran a finger down his open palm.  She looked up in time to catch an awkward smile fading from his lips.

Her jaw dropped.  “Did that _tickle?_ ”

Cole blinked.  “I…think so?”

“Rue!”  Alassiel swiveled her head in her direction so fast that Rue worried she may have given herself whiplash.  “He’s _ticklish!_   Can you believe that?  This is incredible!  Do you know what this could mean?”  She was nearly frothing with excitement.   

“No, but could you calm down?” Rue hissed as she warily observed their surroundings.  The burning sensation of many eyes on the back of her neck made Rue realize just how conspicuous Alassiel’s behavior was.  Her examination of the oddly dressed boy in front of the white-walled inn had attracted a growing number of masked Orlesian onlookers.  Rue did her best to conceal her embarrassment.  “You’re making a scene, and I don’t think Cole appreciates you invading his—”

“So many lines.  They swirl and spiral to the center, chapters of a life’s tale like the trunk of a tree two children sit upon.  I didn’t know there were so many.”

Rue turned back around, immediately regretting having let the two out of her sight.  The roles had reversed, and Cole was now holding Alassiel’s upturned hands and comparing her fingertips to his while she laughed.

Rue gripped a tuft of her hair in exasperation and took a deep breath. 

“All right, children!” she shouted, suddenly clapping her hands together to get their attention.  “You’re drawing a crowd.  Save it for later, when we’re _out_ of the public eye.”

Cole raised a confused brow.  “‘Public’, one word that means many.  It’s…it’s like ‘Inquisition’.  There’s _more_ than just one, Rue.  There are twenty-eight.  Only twenty-seven can see, though…”

“You know what I mean,” Rue snapped.  “We don’t need Val Chevin’s citizens thinking the Inquisition is full of Fade-touched insanity.”

“Oh, they won’t remember,” Cole casually replied, his eyes moving with purpose over every masked figure that stared in their direction.

“All the same.”  Rue began to shepherd the other two toward the Golden Poodle’s tall doorway with her arms.  “We need to get our group together; it’s about time to visit the main square, and I know _you_ wanted to go shopping for fabric.”  She squeezed her little cousin’s shoulder at the word “you”.

The three had barely begun to cross the inn’s stone courtyard when Alassiel abruptly halted, her eyes focused downward.  “Rue?” she said, an eyebrow arched.  “Where are your pants?”

* * *

 

The mid-afternoon atmosphere of Val Chevin’s main market square was the liveliest and most hectic Rue had ever seen—aside from Val Royeaux.  Cafes and restaurants steadily filled with flashy patrons meeting for tea or an early supper.  Several shops with their elegant blue façades and dainty golden archways rung with the hustle and bustle of customers looking for new hats, clothes, or little novelties from Rivain.  There must have been some sort of Carnival happening that day, but the occasion was lost on Rue; she hadn’t very well acquainted herself with Orlesian holidays and celebrations, much to Josephine’s dismay.

The chaotic noise flooded Rue’s sensitive elven ears, and she discreetly gritted her teeth in lieu of pulling her hair out in obvious distress.  In moments like these, her Dalish blood pined for the solitude of the forests of the Free Marches.  Her only comfort was the scent of roasted almonds that wafted by her nose like a sweet dream from somewhere within the cluster of food stands in the middle of the square.  This kept her mood level as she carefully scanned the sea of Orlesians for her companions; it was still an hour or so before the agreed meeting time, but Rue preferred to keep an eye on everyone, if she could.

She spied Cole speaking to a young woman by a stand of extremely feathery hats.  He became flustered as the woman shook her head and took a step back from him.  Quick as a whip, Cole raised his hand, and the lady stopped moving.  Rue frowned upon realizing what he was up to; he uttered more words, lifted his fingers toward her head—gently this time—and simply walked off as the young woman looked around in mild bemusement before going on her merry way.

Rue considered marching after Cole and delivering yet _another_ lecture on her dislike of his manipulation of people’s minds.  A light tap on her shoulder stopped her, however, and she glanced behind to see Blackwall standing with an accomplished grin on his face, a paper cone in his hand that smelled of sugar and cinnamon.  

She gasped in unexpected glee.  “You found the almonds!” she cried as Blackwall opened the cone to reveal the roasted treats inside.

He laughed as the Inquisitor dug out a handful.  “It wasn’t easy.  They were well-hidden.  Found them near that awful game stand—the one where you hit as many wooden mabari heads as possible with a little mallet.”

Right on cue, the obnoxious clanging of a large bell sounded in the distance.  Someone had just whacked all of the wooden mabari heads within the time limit.  The noise didn’t upset Rue this time, though—nothing could.  She had her roasted almonds.

She popped another sugar-coated nut into her mouth and munched contentedly as she narrowed her gaze into a nearby fabric shop.  Through its golden archway, Rue spied Alassiel dancing euphorically from bolt to bolt of various silks.  Behind her stumbled the gangly frame of the shop owner’s apprentice, three whole bolts awkwardly held in his arms.  Rue laughed and shook her head; she had given Alassiel a price cap to her spending, but the little silk addict seemed to have forgotten.

“You know, I never figured you to be the mother hen type.”

Rue raised an eyebrow at the amused Blackwall, two more almonds going into her mouth.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve hardly let her out of your sight since she arrived in Skyhold.”

Rue looked back into the shop where Alassiel was helping the apprentice gather the silk he had dropped while the owner berated him.  “That’s not true.  I’ve been keeping an eye on everyone.  We’ve got a fairly scatter-brained group.”

Blackwall crossed his arms.  “All right.  Where’s Sera?”

“Dunno,” Rue replied with her best Sera impression.  “I imagine she’s off looking for her Red Jenny friend.”

“Fair enough.  How about Cole?”

“He’s right over…fuck.” 

Blackwall laughed loudly as Rue frantically searched the sea of people for the disappearing boy.  “He’s _around!_ ” she finally retorted, snatching the cone of roasted almonds from him. 

“Defensive, are we?”  He chuckled again and pat her back before his tone became sincere.  “It’s good that you care, Rue.  It’s inspiring, really, and it’s part of what makes you fit to lead.”

“My ‘mother henning’ is inspiring?” Rue said with a wry look.

“Your _dedication._ To her, to us…You’d bleed for us without a second thought, Rue, and we know that.  It’s why we’re here— _still_ here, even after what we saw at Haven.  Perhaps _especially_ after what we saw at Haven.  Your mark isn’t the only sign that the world isn’t coming to an end.  Not for me, anyway.”

Rue felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment.  She wasn’t accustomed to such random bursts of compliments.  Before she could form a coherent response, Blackwall sighed and his shoulders sank.  “Ah, listen to me talk.  Couldn’t get any cornier if I tried.  What I mean to say is…thank you for caring.  For being…you, I suppose.”

“Of course I care,” Rue stated loudly, as if it were a point of pride.  “You’re family, just like Alassiel.  You, Sera, even Cole is like a nephew…a Fade-touched nephew that needs an occasional boot, but you understand.”  She then turned her whole body to face Blackwall and gazed at him boldly.  “So, are we on a first name basis now, _Warden_ Blackwall?”

“I suppose you deserve it, after all your persevering.”  Blackwall chuckled and tenderly took a strand of pale gold hair between his fingers.  Rue smiled warmly at the grey warden, and his expression grew somber.  “I should apologize to you,” he said, his gruff voice softening.  “I’ve been pushing you away with no explanation, no reason.  And you deserve one.”

“It _would_ help me understand what I need to do to win you over.”  Rue gave a clever grin.

“That won’t be necessary.  You’ve had me swooning since our first discussion at Haven.  I knew you were a woman worthy of respect, and absolutely worthy of someone’s affection.”  Blackwall tried to brush the hair in his hand behind Rue’s ear, but it defiantly sprang back into place.  “All the same, I owe you an explanation for what I did…but not here.  Would you come with me?  Once our duties here are done and we’re back in Skyhold?”  

“Of course,” Rue stated decisively.  She wasn’t certain where Blackwall wanted to take her, but it wasn’t important.  She was the Inquisitor.  She could go anywhere.  “I’ll make arrangements as soon as we’re back.”

“Thank you…Rue.”

It was then that the two could hear a piercing voice screeching through the crowd.  “Oi!  I got what we need!” Sera cried, waving a long, expensive-looking red silk glove in the air as she bumped past several Orlesian lords and ladies (not at all by accident stomping on a few well-polished boots and satin slippers).  “Round up Creepy and Prissy-pants.  We meet at dusk by the docks.”

* * *

 

“But just _look_ at the sheen of this dupioni swatch!  I could make you a fabulous—”

“Piss off.”

“But I bought a few extra meters just so I could—”

“Are ya barmy?  Come off it, or I’ll stripe you up.”

“Just let me help you replace those tattered old—”

“Listen you, I don’t care whose cousin you are.  I’ll still hang your fancy underwear from every statue in this city before sunup if ya don’t shut it.”

“Rue!”  Both Sera and Alassiel looked at Rue expectantly as the group made their way through the winding cobblestone back alleys of Val Chevin’s port district.  Though the sun was rapidly setting for the day, its orange rays cascaded straight through the slim alley and directly into Rue’s eyes.  This was irritating enough without the childish banter going on behind her, and when she heard her name, she stopped and rounded on the other two elves.

“Mythal’s mercy, can you two _please_ not do this right now?”  Everyone came to a halt as Rue’s voice echoed off of the high walls of the alleyway.  “I’d just like to find Sera’s Red Jenny friend and head back to the Golden Poodle.  There’s a stiff shot of Mackay’s Epic Single Malt calling my name, and I’d rather not keep it waiting.  So, Alassiel, stop heckling Sera about her clothes.  Sera, your tunic _is_ looking rather ratty.”

Sera puffed up in indignation.  “Yeah?  Well, _your_ tunic looks like…like…your face!”

Rue snorted.  “Lovely.  Are we almost there?  We’re nearly at the docks.”

“Yeah, just hang a right by that lantern.  There should be a red marker or somethin’ for me to see.”

The group turned right by the rusted high lantern Sera had indicated and was faced with a narrow, darker corridor.  The setting sun was hidden behind the tall, cracked stucco walls, and no one had come out to light the street lamps yet.  As they ventured, their gait slowed considerably in the quiet, dim atmosphere, and Rue noted the decaying state of the port side alleys of Val Chevin with sadness. 

Dirty, splintered wood from old shipping crates littered the uneven stone floor.  Balconies belonging to residents of the port district were missing floorboards, and hanging bedsheets that would never meet Inquisition standards to dry.  The smell of salt was palpable, coupled with the scent of whatever stale or rotted goods still resided in the neglected barrels nearby.  It was a far cry from the pristine marble pillars and gilded façades of the great city’s Chantry district.  Rue wondered whether they were walking through an alienage at that very moment, and whether conditions would improve if she spoke with Josephine about it.

“What is it, Cole?”

Rue’s thoughts were interrupted when she heard her cousin, and she quizzically glanced behind to see Alassiel and Cole had stopped a few meters back.  Alassiel had an extremely concerned expression, her hand placed tentatively on Cole’s shoulder as he shuddered and stared at the dusty floor.

“What’s wrong with it, then?” Sera asked nervously, taking a step back from the quivering spirit.

Rue and Blackwall simply watched with knitted brows as Compassion began to murmur under his breath.  “ _Run.  Gotta run.  Breath burns, stinging, stabbing—blood.  My blood?  Maker, no…Need air.  Melanie, I want to see your face.  What was that?_ ”  His eyes bore the panic he was relaying as he met Alassiel’s gaze.  “He was hurt.  He was scared.  He didn’t know it was going to happen!”

“What’s he saying?” Rue called across the alley with unease. 

She didn’t get an answer.  Instead, Alassiel’s eyes began to flit about the alley in alarm.  It was as though she were hearing several people talking to her at once. 

Dread gripped the pit of Rue’s stomach as she watched.  She recognized this behavior, and her mouth went dry as a wave of childhood memories came flooding back. 

Blackwall took a step toward the scene, but Rue stopped him with a hand to his chest.  “What are you hearing, Alassiel?” she asked as calmly as she could, determined to ignore her pounding heart.

“What’s this all about?” said Blackwall in a near whisper.

“Spirits,” Alassiel answered, her fingers pressed tightly against her temples.  “I can’t see them—the veil isn’t thin enough here—but I can hear them.  There are so many, and they’re very excited…”  Alassiel then narrowed her eyes in one particular direction, evidently focused on one single voice. 

“If this is a joke, it sure as shit ain’t funny!”  Sera’s voice wavered, half with fear and half with anger.  She had already drawn and strung her bow and was now frantically looking around for something to shoot.  “Voices with no bodies?  That ain’t right!  And why can’t _we_ hear them?”  

“Rue, something happened here,” Alassiel continued over Sera’s frightened babble.  “A man ran through this alley.  Red…stained red.  He was scared, didn’t want to die…His wife—he thought of his wife.  And he dropped…he dropped a red…what?  No.  Mana!  Bel’renan, dirthera felas!”

“Focus, da’len,” Rue interjected sternly in an effort to keep her cousin grounded.  The thought of Alassiel communing with something she couldn’t see pulled dormant feelings of helplessness from her youth to the forefront.  They threatened to engulf her sensibilities, but she swallowed as much of the panic as she could for the sake of those around her.  “What did he drop?  Who was this man?”

It was as if they heard the same voice at the same time.  Cole and Alassiel both looked at one of the dusty crates by Sera and slowly approached.  Alassiel stooped down behind it and straightened up with a silky scarlet glove, identical to the one Sera had.

There was a moment of silence as the discovery sank in, broken by a choked cry of outrage from Sera.  “Where is he?” she yelled, looking desperately between Alassiel and the glove.  “What happened to him?  _Where is he?_ ”

“I-I don’t know!” Alassiel answered frantically.  She tried to take a step back, but Sera grabbed her shoulders with a vice-like grip.

“Bullshit!  What’re the… _things_ in the sky saying?”

“ _I don’t know!_ There are too many voices, and they all want to be heard!  I can’t just _ask_ them to quiet down and give a straight answer!”

“Sera!  Calm down!”  Rue interjected, storming toward them. 

Sera took several deep breaths before releasing Alassiel and kicking a stray plank by her foot.

Alassiel returned her attention to Cole, who seemed to have been torn between watching Sera’s outburst and listening to the agitated voices of the other spirits.

“What do you feel, Cole?” she asked.  “If you focus past the other voices, you might be able to hear more.”

Cole closed his eyes in response, the breath of those around him baited until he began to speak again.  “ _Air dragged through burning lungs.  Tired, need to breathe.  I don’t hear footsteps.  I think I’m safe.  I think I’m…What was that?_ ” 

Everyone watched as Compassion slowly raised a finger to his left, indicating a narrow alcove in the corner.  Sera darted toward it, and Rue followed closely behind, stomach numb with worry.  She had barely rounded the corner with the city elf before she froze in her tracks at the sight that lay before them.  

 There, sprawled face-down on the grimy cobblestone floor, was the headless corpse of a young man.  Deep crimson blood still poured from the fresh wound where his head would be.  This was a recent kill.  The victim’s head was nowhere to be seen—whoever killed him evidently took his head as some sort of prize.

Sera leapt to action before Rue could move, squatting down and digging feverishly through his pockets and muttering. “No, no, no—Crap.  Don’t tell me.  Don’t tell me.  Don’t tell— _Piss!_ ”  She withdrew a small, crudely cut red jewel and brandished it in Rue’s direction.  “It’s a fuckin’ Jenny.  It’s my fuckin’ _friend!_ ”

Rue didn’t even have time to swallow the information before a sudden cry from the alley rang out.  “Rue!  We need to leave!  We need to leave, _now!_ ” Alassiel yelled as she ran toward them.  She halted abruptly at the entrance of the alcove, however, and gasped at the sight of the still-bleeding body. 

“What’s going on?”  Rue demanded as she approached her horrified cousin.  She tapped Alassiel lightly on the cheek to break her of her transfixion on the gruesome spectacle before her.

“Th-the spirits are becoming erratic!  They’re saying many are coming!  This is a trap, Rue!  We’re going to be surrounded!  There’s going to be an—”

“AMBUSH!” 

Blackwall’s roar echoed throughout the darkened alleyway, and Rue’s blood turned to ice.    

 

 

 


End file.
